


uneasy

by civillove



Series: plans wrapped in rubber bands [16]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, Original Character(s), Protective Beth, Protective Rio (Good Girls)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 11:26:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19004833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/civillove/pseuds/civillove
Summary: Prompt from anon: Rio has an uneasy feeling about a meeting and tries to make one of his guys take Beth home because it’s not safe but she insists on staying because she’s worried about him.--“You gonna go home?”It’s one last attempt and she can tell that he already knows what she’s going to say, his forehead pinching in frustration. “You mean am I going to let you shove me into your car? No.” She shakes her head, “We’re partners. If this is dangerous—”“This is dangerous and it’s the last place I want you to be.” Rio talks over her, his voice airing a finality that digs in-between her bones.





	uneasy

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, not sure how to take the finale so maybe if it’s better if no one talks about it lol imma live in this series, thanks for visiting.

The purr of Rio’s car engine turns quiet as he pulls into the parking lot of an abandoned warehouse and parks. Beth lets out a long sigh out her nose, eyes picking up details of rusted metal, broken pavement and a few other cars…waiting. It’s interesting to her how they always end up at a place like this, almost like an omen, the details outside giving her small predictions about what’s about to happen inside.

She feels a little overdressed in light wash jeans with a black blouse, her fingers playing with a black raincoat that for some reason feels a little heavy on her shoulders tonight. Rio somehow makes his outfits fit any occasion; a day at the park, a deal, a drop, standing in her kitchen with a gun, doesn’t matter—always the same level of handsome with clean, dark lines and expensive ankle boots.

Beth turns to look at him and his gaze is expectant, shit, he’s asked her something. “Sorry, what?”

He watches her a moment before pocketing his car keys and she knows he really hates repeating himself. He also tends to use how she’s feeling right before a meeting to judge how it’ll go and her daydreaming? not a good sign in his book.

“I said, can we handle another lot?”

Oh right, the dealership. She thinks back to the backlot behind Boland Motors, trying to tick off how many cars she’s got that belong to him that they still need to sell. “We can handle maybe…four more coming in this week but that’s it, unless we plan on giving them away for free.”

He still has one of his hands on the steering wheel, thumb brushing against the leather, “That’s the reason for this meet tonight, we need to able to store more product—our demand is outweighin’ our supply.”

She rubs the back of her neck, leaning her head back a moment. “And where do they store the cars?”

He smiles a little before turning his head to look at her, “Patrick Veto doesn’t let many in on his system.”

Beth frowns, “And those lack of details don’t bother you?”

He shrugs his one shoulder, “Nah, he’s dependable and can deliver. That’s the only thing we need him to do.”

“Well they bother me.” She mumbles, leaning back into her seat. She takes her seatbelt off and once again glances out the passenger window.

Beth finds herself wound up in her thoughts, fueled from lack of sleep, her eyes tracing the cars in the parking lot like she expects something bad to happen. Just because she’s had a few sour meetings doesn’t mean that every single one is expected to be terrible. She curls her hair around her ear, her leg bouncing a little as she squints at the warehouse.

What time is this thing supposed to start? What are they waiting for? Does Vito really not share information with anyone he works with or doesn’t he trust them? How are they expected to do business with someone where trust isn’t a factor? All these questions bottle up in her throat but she knows better than to ask them.

Rio’s hand comes down on her knee, almost making her jump. He squeezes, briefly, before letting go—his eyes are doing that thing where he’s trying to peel back her skin and figure out what’s going on instead of asking.

“You were up last night.”

Beth’s cheeks tint the softest of pinks; she hadn’t realized that he noticed. This is what she gets for running herself ragged yesterday. Sometimes her life just gets swept up in a hurricane of things to do: she had a birthday party to take Jane to, and then Dean was sick so he couldn’t help with making sure the kids made their scheduled obligations so she had to step in and she felt rusty because she hadn’t done it in a while. Not to mention grocery shopping, a PTA meeting she couldn’t cancel and then meeting with Rio to discuss their numbers from the last month.

She had practically fallen asleep on his couch in the middle of talking.

But then…

She shrugs her one shoulder, “I was wired.”

Rio narrows his eyes at her, just slightly, because wired is definitely not the word she’d use to actually describe herself last night. Exhausted sounded better, which means she should have drifted and _stayed_ asleep but—

“You havin’ nightmares?” It’s such a simple question and yet it feels like it echoes in the car, like he already knows the answer regardless of what she says.

She swallows and draws her lower lip in-between her teeth, silence filling the space between them like cotton. For some reason she doesn’t want to tell him, doesn’t want to confirm that he’s right in his suspicions. Beth guesses that she should have known this was coming; she’s been through so much lately…and she can’t expect to come out on the other side unscathed.

It’s just…it’s the same dream she’s had before but lately? it’s been getting worse. That mudslide she somehow gets stuck under turns to blood and sometimes he’s there and other times he isn’t and when she’s alone it’s worse. It gets stuck in her nose and eyes and throat and she can’t _breathe_ and she wakes up gasping for air. Only after she’s awake does she remember that bodies were under the mud with her; Warez and the girl from the motel, the man she killed. They’re all there, holding onto her ankles.

She forces herself _not_ to squirm in her seat and clears her throat, straightening her back. “Really, I’m just…having trouble sleeping. It’s nothing.”

He doesn’t believe her and she knows it, doesn’t have to look at him to sense it rolling off of his shoulders in waves. He sighs and looks out the windshield, quiet for a few moments as he gives her time to open up, to tell him what’s bothering her.

She doesn’t.

“Sooner or later we’re gonna have to talk about this. Bottlin’ makes it worse.”

Irritation creeps into her veins and she has to bite down on the wave of frustration that automatically wants to leave her mouth. He’s got a lot of nerve; she should be able to take all the time she wants to be able to talk about this. Or better yet? Not talk about it at all with him if that’s what she wants.

“That seems a little ironic coming from you, isn’t it?” She states and almost instantly she sees his shoulders straighten, the muscles in his jaw working as he turns his head to look at her.

“I can’t work with you if you’re not sleepin’,” He says as if it’s that simple, “I need you sharp.”  

Yeah, she’s a little groggy but that won’t affect what needs to be done at their meeting. She just needs to go to bed a little earlier, soak in a hot bath, drink some chamomile tea or something to right herself; once she gets her body on board, sleep will come. She doesn’t need to involve him; talking it out is just going to make her think about it _more._

“Come on,” Rio says after a moment, glancing up at the warehouse.

Beth opens up the car door, stepping out onto the pavement. She straightens her jacket and adjusts her purse strap on her shoulder, recognizing one of his boys approaching the car. He’s larger in stature, burly and muscles nearly straining the gray button down he has on. She’s never really heard Rio call him by a name and she feels weird referring to him in her mind as ‘head-tats’.

He nods his head at her before walking up to Rio, his frame tight and guarded as he leans over to tell him something. She can’t hear what he says but a shadow passes over Rio’s face, pulling back a moment to run a hand along his jawline: something’s wrong.

She frowns and takes a few steps towards them, sticking her hands in her coat pockets as her eyes pass between the two men. They’re talking low, exchanging information by barely speaking. It looks as if someone has stuck a key in Rio’s back and wound him up, letting out a soft sigh before he addresses her.

“Aviles is goin’ to take you back home.”

Her mouth opens a little, her eyes flickering over to ‘head-tats’ and while she’s glad she finally knows his name she can’t get past the fact that Rio’s trying to kick her to the curb. “Wait, what?”

Rio adjusts the gun in the waistband of his jeans, pulling his shirt down again. “You’re goin’ home, get in the car.”

He goes to walk past her but she refuses to settle with that lack of an answer, grabbing onto his arm. She steps in front of him and even though he’s towering over her, gently removing her hand from his bicep, she doesn’t move.

“What are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere.”

“This ain’t a question,” He straightens his posture, his eyes tracing over her face.

His eyes are indifferent, cold in a way that doesn’t feel like him as of late—she’s so used to the warmth there like melted chocolate that the stark difference sends a cold shiver down her spine. Whatever’s going on must be bad.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

Rio’s jaw works and she can tell he’s stuck between telling her and forcing her into the car himself, his fingers clenching down by his sides. Aviles steps up beside her, waiting, and she knows all he has to do is nod his head and he’ll do what needs to be done. Beth stands her ground, digging her heels in with her chin up—they’ve come too far to revert back to complete secrecy.

He shakes his head at Aviles, who takes a step back and Rio takes the purse off her shoulder. The way he’s touching things on her contrasts greatly to the constrained anger in his voice when he speaks, “Veto’s not here. I don’t do deals with anyone but the boss.”

Beth chews the inside of her cheek, curling her hair around her ear. “Thought you said lack of details didn’t bother you.”

“This one does.” He states, pausing as he sticks his hand in her purse. “You gonna go home?”

It’s one last attempt and she can tell that he already knows what she’s going to say, his forehead pinching in frustration. “You mean am I going to let you shove me into your car? No.” She shakes her head, “We’re partners. If this is dangerous—”

“This _is_ dangerous and it’s the last place I want you to be.” Rio talks over her, his voice airing a finality that digs in-between her bones.

“I’m not leaving.” She states and if he really thought she would, he doesn’t know her as well as he likes to say he does.

He lets out a sigh and takes the gun out of her purse, handing it to Aviles to put in the car. He then checks the chamber and puts the safety back on, slipping it into the pocket of her rain jacket. Rio grabs onto her arm, stopping her in her tracks when she turns to walk into the warehouse.

He waits until her eyes meet his own, his thumb pressing insistently against the soft side of her elbow. She swallows, nearly overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze. He’s _worried_ about taking her in there with him, she realizes, like she felt about leaving him alone.

“If I tell you to do somethin’ in there—”

“I will,” She assures him, her hand coming down onto his own. She rubs her thumb over his knuckles even though he doesn’t loosen his grip.

“And let me do most of the talkin’.” Only then does he let her go, passing her to walk into the warehouse.

Beth lets out a slow breath, turning over her shoulder to look at Aviles who is checking his own gun before motioning her to follow Rio inside. She runs the palms of her hands down her coat, her skin a little clammy as she steps over the threshold. Rio’s standing in the center of the abandoned warehouse, a few tables nearby, one turned over onto the floor. The windows do little to let in light from outside, streetlights and the moon dimming the concrete. A shiver courses down her spine at the damp cold, the weight of the gun in her pocket so heavy it feels like she might sink into the ground beneath her.

Her heels click noisily as she goes to stand near Rio, his gaze on a woman sitting in a lone chair a few feet away from them. Her eyes are warm and dark, tracing over Rio in an almost too friendly manner, like she’s aware of what’s beneath his clothes. Beth swallows, taking her in—she’s lean and dressed simply but _gorgeous,_ with dark, curly brown hair and full lips. She appears bored gazing upon them, two bigger men behind her, one that reminds her of Aviles and an African American man with so many tattoos it looks like a blanket of ink is covering him.

“You look surprised to see me, Rio.” She says, her voice sounds like velvet settling over steel. It’s not until she hears her speak that Beth realizes that _they know one another,_ “All of a sudden you don’t know what circles I run in?”

Rio is the perfect picture of calm and composed, a cold demeanor running over him like a stream. “Honestly Carlita I thought you were dead.”

She laughs softly, her eyes never leaving his form. She stands up from the chair and walks towards him, slowly like a cat stalking prey. He straightens his back a little, jaw working as his eyes trace over her face and Beth almost feels awkward standing there, like she’s interrupting something intimate.

“You don’t sound very relieved.”

He shrugs his one shoulder, hands folding in front of his waist near his gun. “Just disappointed.”

Carlita pouts and of course it’s pretty, something reaching deep in her stomach and squeezing as she touches the edge of Rio’s jacket. “Aw come on, you and I had our fun.”

Beth clears her throat, the sound louder than she expects but is she really supposed to stand there when they have business to do? Not only that but their dealings are with Veto, not her; didn’t Rio say that he wasn’t willing to work with anyone other than the boss?

Its then her eyes fall on Beth, like she’s finally noticing she’s there, tracing along her form and smiling just a little. “I see you’re moving on with something new: desperate housewives, hmm? I think I watched that show once.”

Rio bristles as Carlita’s attention falls on Beth, interrupting before she has a chance to say something else, “What are you doin’ here? I’m supposed to be meetin’ Veto not a fuckin’ lackey.”

The insult touches a nerve in Carlita instantly, her eyes leaving Beth and fixing Rio with glare that she’s pretty sure would set anyone else on fire and begins yelling at him in Spanish. Beth can’t make out what she’s saying but she’s assuming it’s probably something like _don’t you dare call me a lackey._ Rio yells over her in equal frustration and even though she can’t understand him either, she knows him well enough to guess that his response is along the lines of _I can call you whatever I damn well please._

She takes a step back from the conversation, her hand slipping into her pocket where her gun is. Beth doesn’t intend on taking it out, or using it, but for some reason the comfort of warm metal in her pocket is heavy and grounding between her fingertips. This meeting is a fucking mess and she’s just about to scream over them to try and get them to stop when she hears a familiar click.

One of Carlita’s men, misreading her reaching inside her coat pocket, closes the distance between them and aims a gun in her direction. Tension pops in the air like a balloon and all of a sudden everyone has a gun raised except for her and Carlita. Beth remains unmoving, like stone, too afraid to move. She barely tilts her head, letting out a slow breath as she sees Rio’s gun shining like gold under the pale lights, pointing it with a steady hand towards the guy who has one on her.

“Nah, put your gun down man.” He’s not asking.

Carlita _laughs,_ almost clapping her hands as she looks over Beth, far too amused. “Well, would you look at that. What’d you plan on doing? Shoot me?”

Beth swallows and sneaks a look at Rio, wondering briefly if this is why he wanted to send her home. She didn’t expect the meeting to turn sour so quickly but as she looks back at Carlita, there’s a glint in her eye that tells her she might be _enjoying_ all of this.

“No,” She whispers.

“Speak up.” She snaps, taking a step away from Rio and towards her, the other man she’s brought as muscle aiming his gun at Aviles.  

She clears her throat, working on her voice to sound a little stronger as she replies, “No, I tend not to shoot my clients.”

“Carlita.” Rio yells, trying to get her attention but she’s not listening to him, her gaze too fixated, too amused. Her man hasn’t moved, the barrel of his gun brushing along her hair, creating a shiver down the back of her neck.

Rio takes another step closer, all he can manage without getting shot himself, his voice as cold and hard as the concrete they’re standing on, “Get your gun outta her face, I mean it.”

But he remains unmoving, only listening to his boss, who’s observing her like she’s pulling the wings off a butterfly. Carlita reaches a hand out and Beth flinches, can’t help it, even though she only touches the ends of her hair, pushing it over her shoulder.

“’Client’”, she plays with the word on her tongue a few moments, “That’s cute. He tell you to say that?” She takes another step closer, encroaching on her space as she speaks. Up close, Beth can see beauty marks on her flushed cheeks—she’s beautiful, really, and this demeanor she holds only seems to make her more magnetic. “Is he ‘teaching’ you? You don’t know him at all, do you?”

She holds Carlita’s gaze, considering her words for a moment. She knows distantly that she’s just trying to get a rise out of her, out of Rio, that she shouldn’t let her pull her into this black hole she’s spinning—but she does think about it. It’s the way she asks if he’s _teaching her_ because Rio did promise her the same thing; an opportunity to learn. As of late she’s felt like she’s gotten to know him, more than before, more than when he first started showing up in her kitchen with propositions and threats. But the history that Carlita seems to be talking about sounds like a complicated one…and what if she’s right?

“You don’t know half of what he’s capable of. Scratch the surface and all you’re gonna find is more surface.”

“Carlita, I swear to god I’ll fuckin' shoot him.” Rio interrupts with what sounds like his last warning as the gun presses against Beth’s throat. “Tell him to put it down.”

She looks over her shoulder now, fixing him with an entertained smile. “You care about her.” There’s such a weight to her words as Rio holds her gaze, no longer as indifferent as he maybe wants it to be. “Interesting.”

Beth clears her throat, “We’ll double payment for storing the cars.” And she knows Rio told her to let him do the talking but she’s not sure what else they can do.

This meeting has already gotten too far out of hard and she distantly wonders if this was Veto’s plan in the first place—survive through the chaos, then we can do business. Carlita smiles, soft and sweet and gently puts her hand on her man’s arm.

“Well, that’s all you had to say,” And he lowers his gun. Beth lets out a harsh breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, Rio reaching for her arm as she takes a step back. He positions her behind him, squeezing her wrist before putting his gun away. Carlita hums, satisfied, “Veto'll be very happy to hear that.”

Rio takes one look at Aviles and he nods softly, approaching Beth to take her outside. She opens her mouth to protest but can’t find the words, hands still shaking a little and her knees weak as she takes one more look at Rio’s back before letting his boy guide her out.

Rio stands a little straighter, his eyes nearly black as he stares at Carlita who’s enjoying Beth’s exit far too much. “Was so nice to meet you, Elizabeth.” She calls after her and the moment the warehouse door yanks shut, he takes two steps forward and _grabs_ her by her throat, nearly shoving her back down into the seat she was in when they showed up.

Her men move instantly, aiming guns at him but he remains unphased, his fingers tightening just a little even though her eyes are telling him she likes it.

“If you think we’re gonna have another meeting where you threaten my partner, you got another thing comin’.” 

“Oh _please_.” She laughs a little and her hand falls, just slightly, her men backing off at the motion. She’s not threatened by Rio, “She's really got you twisted hasn't she? You know threats are all part of the game.”

He struggles a moment with one thought, balancing tightly on that thin line that’s like a tightrope inside of him before he lets her go. He straightens his back, watching her sink down onto the chair and lean back, relaxed, legs spread slightly open.

The muscles in Rio’s jaw work, clocking the action and shaking his head before clearing his throat. “Our next meeting is with Veto or we’re out.” And turns to leave.

Carlita calls after him, “So looking forward to doing business with you again!” before he closes the warehouse door behind him.

\--

Beth leans against the passenger door of Rio’s car, glancing at Aviles every so often before curiosity gets the better of her, “Did they work together for a long time?”

He looks at her and clears his throat, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to say before a very short, “Yes.” leaves his mouth.

She wants to ask more, she has so many questions, and yet they all get stuck in her throat as Rio exits the warehouse and approaches the car. He nods his head once to Aviles, who leaves, and gets into the driver’s side. Beth gives one last look at the warehouse and notices that Carlita and her men haven’t left yet, distantly wonders how Rio took care of this mess of a meeting and hopes that’ll be the last time she has to see her.

Rio doesn’t waste any time to start the car when she gets in, the engine purring to life as he pulls out of the parking lot. They don’t say anything to one another for a long time and Beth knows better than to just start asking things of him—his jaw is still working, barely contained anger inching its way out of his tense body. She needs to let him decompress for a little.

She looks out the window and knows that he’s not driving to either one of their homes, not after that.

“You didn’t have to send me out of the warehouse.”

There’s a noise that leaves Rio’s throat but she can’t tell if it’s annoyed or astounded. He just throws her a look before leaning further back into his seat, “The meeting’s with Veto next time or we’re done. Ain’t got time for that bitch ass drama, there’s other people less fuckin’ crazy we can store cars with.”

She watches him for a moment, the way his fingers squeeze the steering wheel when he drives, eyes darting to look into the rearview mirror every so often. She wants their history to be printed on his skin, obvious enough that she doesn’t have to ask. But that’s not how this works and they both know that; she’s just has to tread carefully and hope for the best.

“She seems…nice.”

Rio barely snorts out some sort of laugh, looking over at her as they pause at a red light, “Carlita likes gettin’ under people’s skin.” Beth bites her tongue on saying that he’s the exact same way; except while he just likes making people squirm, she seems to like poking and prodding at nerves until it hurts.

She settles back in the seat, allowing her eyes to close as she rests her head against the headrest. A few moments pass as a green light pushes the car forward.

“I’m getting really tired of getting guns pointed at me.” She mumbles and hates that it comes out as a joke rather than anything else.

\--

They’re at his seedy motel room but for some reason? that’s starting to feel comforting because at least she knows they’re safe there. She lets out a long sigh as the door closes behind them, rubbing the side of her neck as she takes off her rain jacket. The last thing she feels like doing is sleeping here on an almost too small, uncomfortable bed with stiff sheets but she knows that he wouldn’t have driven them here if it wasn’t for the best.

She runs a tired hand over her face, taking her phone out of her purse to text Dean that she’s staying at Annie’s and Annie what she’s told Dean. Dean doesn’t respond but her sister texts back: _Are you okay?_ A soft smile tugs at the ends of her mouth because is she? Right now she just feels exhausted and uncomfortable in this space _Yeah, just got tied up._ Annie takes a few minutes to reply back _at least tell me it’s tied up in a fun way ;)_

Beth rolls her eyes and puts the phone back into her purse, looking over her shoulder at Rio who is digging through that black duffle he always seems to have with him here. He takes out a bottle of whiskey and a white t-shirt, handing it to her.

“Do you have something to sleep in?”

“I don’t need anythin’, you take it.”

She nods her head softly and slips into the bathroom to take her jeans and blouse off, slipping the shirt over her head. It’s not long enough, barely grazing the top of her thighs but…she finds she kinda likes it that way. When she comes back out, Rio turns to look at her, stripped of boots. His jeans and shirt are still on, a long-sleeved gray Henley that she can feel the softness of from where she’s standing.

His eyes graze over the expanse of her legs, licking his lips as he drinks her in. Beth feels herself flush a little, moving past him to sit on the bed as he brings the whiskey with him, settling down next to her.

“Isn’t it kind of funny that we always seem to end up here?” She asks and no, it’s really not funny, but Rio just opens up the bottle and hands it to her in response.

She looks down into the bottle, like staring down the barrel of a gun, and tips back a sip into her throat. She coughs, passing the bottle back to him and enjoying the heat down her throat. Their fingers brush, Rio pausing in the action, his thumb very purposely tracing her own.

Beth swallows, curling her hair around her ear and just… “Is she…she’s not Marcus’s mom, right?”

“Nah,” Rio shifts back onto the bed, taking a sip for himself before settling the bottle on his one thigh. “Just a past somethin’, past almost.”

_Past almost—_ for some reason that feels so weighted. She turns her head to look at him, chewing on her lower lip for a few moments as she watches him take another sip of whiskey. Beth tries to dig through what that could mean; was it all work? Too much passion? A sour deal or meeting or drop or pick-up that disintegrated them working together? She remembers Rio saying something about past partners trying to kill him; she thought it was a joke at the time but maybe he was referring to Carlita.

“She seems…” She chooses her words carefully, “Difficult to work with.”

Rio smirks, taking another sip of whiskey before she takes the bottle from him. “Picked up on that huh?” She squeezes the neck of the bottle, giving herself a better grip before swallowing more. It burns her throat but for some reason that too is comforting. “Almost like dealin’ with your high maintenance drama, just with less threats.”

She lets out a soft laugh, setting the bottle aside on the nightstand. “I’m too tired to argue with you.”

“Pity,” Rio smiles before standing from the bed. “I saw a diner few streets back, you want somethin’?”

Beth can’t even think about eating at this hour, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing before just shaking her head. She watches him put his shoes back on, grabbing his keys and hesitates by the door. He opens his mouth, looking over his shoulder at her—

“I’ll be fine.” She tells him, motioning to the whiskey bottle. “Got everything I could ever need right here.”

The corners of his mouth tugs a little before he’s out the door and gone, the silence of the motel room settling over her like a wet blanket. Beth chews on her lower lip, taking a few moments to lie down in bed before her eyes flutter closed.

\--

_She’s on a riverbank, slipping; she’s trying to pull herself back up by grabbing onto reeds and plants, rocks, dirt pinching under her fingernails. Mud slithers around her ankles and tugs and by then it’s too late—she’s under. She screams but nothing comes out and sludge fills her mouth and throat, choking her. She can’t breathe and begins to panic, her limbs won’t work, she’s stuck under a massive weight and it pushes her deeper under. She kicks, tries to lift her head above, just manages to do so and gasps shakily, her vision going in and out, replacing dark brown muck with blood—red and thick and hot—_

_Beth’s eyes try to focus, trying to pick something solid and safe to ground herself, to pull herself up and out but the only thing she sees are bodies. Just like her, floating and stuck and eyes cold and dead, like ice over a pond._

_It’s grabbing her again, on her arms and waist and she can’t go under—she can’t—_

Beth struggles, trapped in sheets, a choked whine leaving her lips. She tries to push it back, free herself and when she gasps awake, her hands come down on—

“Hey, just me.” Rio’s sitting by her legs, a to-go bag on the nightstand as she scrambles back against the headboard. She’s breathing quickly, too heavy as she tries to push oxygen into her lungs, dazed from her dream and confused. Her fingers grip the sheets, Rio’s one hand settled on her thigh. “Calm down, you’re okay.”

Beth’s eyes are wild as she looks around, her one hand settling on her chest, trembling because—because it’s not real. None of its real and yet—those _eyes,_ those gazes that won’t leave her, too many guns and too much death and too close to her—

“Hey,” Rio whispers gently, inching closer to her as tears well in her eyes and slip down her cheeks. “C’mere. Come on, ma.” A sob escapes her chest as she folds forward into his arms, breath shuddering when he pulls her close. He runs a careful palm up and down her back, her fingers gathering his shirt into her grip when she hides her face against his shoulder.

Tears leak into the material of his t-shirt and he squeezes her, his breathing even and comforting against her chest. Beth feels a gentle rocking sensation, back and forth, his fingers stroking through her hair before he slowly pulls back from her.

He cups her face, his thumb running along her cheekbone to remove tear tracks. Her grip on him is still tight and he waits until his gaze catches her own before, “Just trouble sleepin’, hmm?” He asks softly, quoting her from earlier.

Beth sniffles, her shaking subsiding the longer she sits there, the more she wakes up. Her throat still feels choked, like someone’s got their hands wrapped around her neck. Blush splotches her cheeks, drawing her lower lip into her mouth and biting until it’s a little swollen and red.

“You gonna talk to me?”

She lets out a slow breath, wiping her one cheek, her fingers loosening their grip on his shirt. “I just feel like I’m drowning. But it’s not just water it’s—it’s _mud,_ thicker and,” She touches her throat, fingernails dragging along her trachea. “I keep seeing…”

He nods, his one hand resting on hers between them. He squeezes gently, thumb tracing the tree of veins on her wrist. “You had to know this was gonna happen, mami, it’s all part of it.”

She hates how nonchalant of an answer that is because no, _no,_ she didn’t expect any of this when she robbed that grocery store, when she left those pearls on the doorknob in that warehouse. She didn’t expect the guns, the sense of helplessness, the pain, the _death._ Even now, after she’s experienced so many instances of it, it’s still hard for her to accept.

“You have to let it all in,” Rio tells her, places his hand on her shoulder so his thumb can brush along her collarbone, “No matter how much it hurts.”

Beth feels the resistance, the knee-jerk reaction to just take everything that’s been so painful and dangerous and hard and sweep it under the rug like it’s never happened. It’s easier that way, so much easier, but in turn she can’t sleep—it weighs on her. She doesn’t have to accept it but she can’t let it haunt her.

“I don’t know how.” She swallows, leaning back against the headboard.

Rio nods a little, chewing on the inside of his cheek. She can sense his gaze, warm and dark even if she’s not looking at him. He reaches for the to-go bag and sticks his hand inside, pulling out fresh cut fries. He offers the bag to her, open, the smell of fried food wafting out and making her stomach growl.

“I’ll help you.” He says, a promise, and Beth’s eyes meet his own before she takes some fries out of the bag to munch on.

She doesn’t have any more nightmares that night.

\--

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading! prompts are always encouraged ;)


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